


The Good Sleep Better

by hrhrionastar



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Episode: s02e07 Resurrection, F/F, F/M, Multi, Parody, Season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhrionastar/pseuds/hrhrionastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a <a href="http://peoplespalace.livejournal.com/">People's Palace</a> discussion: what if, at the end of Resurrection, it's Darken's soul that's returned to Richard's body, instead of Richard's? Note - this is a parody!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Sleep Better

**The Good Sleep Better**

“You’ll never see your friends again, I’ll torture you for eternity, blah, blah, blah—ooh, that’s my stop!”

So saying, Darken Rahl thrust his brother Richard’s spirit out of the way and stepped into that glowing Light, confidently tossing his head of luxurious hair and surreptitiously wiping his sweaty palms on his robes.

Now, at last, he would return to the Land of the Living—the Underworld was no People’s Palace, that was for sure, and Darken couldn’t imagine another second listening to that endless whining—“AND THEN SHE SAID SHE NEEDED SOME SPACE! _SPACE!_ THE TWO OF US WERE THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD! AND SHE SENDS ME _HERE_ FOR A ‘TRIAL SEPARATION’—HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME?”

If the Keeper ever decided to man up and sweep the Creator off her feet, he would do well to take style points from Darken Rahl.

Darken’s eyes fluttered open and he was confronted with Cara’s face, inches from his own, hair falling in short blonde wisps and tickling his (no, Richard’s) skin. He reveled in the glorious sight until she self-consciously stepped back, revealing Kahlan.

Darken sat up, just in time for Kahlan to throw her arms around him, kissing him as if he were the love of her life—which, Darken told himself conscientiously, he was.

“Richard!” she gasped, and Darken reminded himself to answer to his brother’s name from now on. It was a much better name than his own—his brother got everything.

Well, not anymore.

He and Kahlan exchanged a fervent and lengthy kiss. Daringly, Darken let his hands wander, wondering if Cara was watching this. Wondering if she were jealous. Wondering if she’d like to join in…

Unlike Richard, he had no bar to spending the whole night with Kahlan, in a big bed—still, letting her know this crucial information would be a minefield of potentially revealing comments.

Regretfully, Darken let her go. Only for the moment, he promised himself.

Kahlan looked as though she were sorry to be out of his arms, too. Her lashes swept down shyly, and she whispered, “Richard, we can’t…”

Darken guessed he could wear down her resistance, but there was no time; even now, the Wizard was beckoning them away. Of course—the search for the Stone of Tears.

Darken was not anxious to return to the Keeper’s unedifying company—ever—and thus, it behooved him to find the pestilential rock as soon as possible.

“I’m delighted you’re all right, Richard,” the Wizard told him warmly. “But Denna has the Compass.”

Darken’s brows contracted, and he stared menacingly at the far wall, thinking about Denna. She had been a thorn in his side for long enough. What did she imagine she was going to do with the Compass, anyway?

On the other hand, what was Darken going to do with the Compass?

At the moment, except as a prop for verisimilitude, it was a singularly useless artifact. (Just like the Sword of Truth—but how often did it light up like a Creatormas tree anyway?)

Nonetheless, Darken wasn’t anxious to let go of his charade. The Compass, by all means.

They set off after Denna, and almost immediately were accosted by three Sisters of the Light—a triumvirate of annoyance.

“You must come with us, to the Palace of the Prophets, where you will be trained,” the Sisters began.

Darken nearly laughed aloud. “I don’t need any _training_ ,” he said, contemptuously.

“But Richard, your headaches,” Kahlan protested.

Darken was confused; what headaches? Oh, of course, she must mean the stabbing pains of nascent magic—he’d recognized and dealt with those days ago.

Already he was far more proficient, and now far more powerful, than any wizard he’d ever met. Darken reveled in the power—and now, saw a new way to put it to good use.

“They stopped when I realized…” he said, and leaned closer to Kahlan’s ear. “That my magic could protect me from your Confessor powers.”

Kahlan’s breath hitched; she looked searchingly up at him.

Darken raised his eyebrows invitingly.

“Thanks for the warning,” Kahlan told the Sisters of the Light breathlessly. “We’ll get back to you. Later.”

“What about the Wizard?” Cara drawled, once the Sisters of the Light had reluctantly disappeared into the trees.

Darken and Kahlan jumped, the Wizard’s plight having entirely fled their minds.

Darken would have brushed it aside, but Kahlan and Cara seemed determined. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and led them off toward Denna and the Wizard.

“Does Richard seem…different to you?” Kahlan asked softly.

Darken strained his ears to hear Cara’s reply.

“You mean because he’s decided he’s immune to Confession?” Cara asked. “No, not really.”

“It’s more than that,” Kahlan said. “It’s…everything. Since you brought him back, after I—killed him. I think maybe…”

Cara didn’t answer, and Darken didn’t turn around to see the expression on her face. He didn’t need to. He could picture her now, that arrogant, inquiring tilt of her head, lips faintly pursed, eyebrows raised, eyes rolling back…he loved that look.

Unwillingly, he smiled—just in time to feel Denna’s agiel connect with his stomach. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted her around, and put the Sword of Truth to her throat.

“Cara,” he said shortly.

It was only when she asked, coolly sardonic, “Richard?” that he remembered. Their days of fighting together, on the same side, were over—or, rather, reborn.

“Take her agiel,” he clarified.

Cara did so. “Shouldn’t we kill her?” she asked.

“Oh, no, Richard wouldn’t—“ Kahlan began.

“Why not?” Darken asked, and stepped forward to the edge of the cliff. Denna’s heels thudded against his shins.

“ _You’re_ not Richard,” she said, just before he dropped her over the cliff and staggered backward.

“Richard, are you all right?” Kahlan asked at once. “Did she hurt you?”

“Now the Compass can return to where it truly belongs—in the hands of the true Seeker,” the Wizard said, smiling.

Darken took it, and it lit up. He smiled secretly to himself. Richard’s boundless Han was proving very useful indeed.

That night, by the fire, Cara started fussing over a slight wound on Kahlan’s thigh, and Darken’s eyes narrowed. A plan was starting to occur to him.

It was only a short time later that a wizard of the Second Order popped up from out of nowhere and demanded the Mother Confessor return with him to Aydindril, before collapsing, dead, to the ground.

But Darken wasn’t letting Kahlan out of his grasp that easily.

“Nonsense,” he said. “I need you here, Kahlan. Zedd can go—I’ve come much further along in my magical studies.”

The Wizard looked unhappy, but he was obedient—which put him many leagues from Darken, Kahlan and Cara.

Darken smirked. Perfect.

“The Waterfalls of Aldermont,” Kahlan breathed, as they reached the top of a rise. The view burst upon them in all its majesty—the water shone red as blood.

Darken didn’t have to feign his gasp; this was very fine.

“It’s so romantic,” Kahlan sighed, stealing a glance at Darken which he didn’t even pretend to be too innocent to understand.

“It’s the blood of dead soldiers. They drowned themselves in the waterfall rather than be captured,” Cara said practically. Kahlan pouted, and Cara relented, “Which…is romantic.”

Darken had Kahlan off her horse and in his arms by now. He raised his eyebrows at Cara.

“Fine, I’ll take a walk,” Cara said angrily, tying the horses to a tree and stomping away. “I can take a hint!”

“No, you really can’t,” Darken sighed. She’d never been able to. He gave Kahlan a significant look, and said, in a lower voice, “Do you want to…?”

“But what if I Confess her?” Kahlan whispered.

“If you let her get away now, we’ll never get her back,” Darken said, definitively.

Kahlan bit her lip, adorably, and hurried after Cara—as Darken knew she’d wanted to for weeks now.

“Don’t go,” Kahlan said hesitantly. “I—“ Words failed her; she pulled Cara close and kissed her, not letting go even when Cara froze.

Darken stepped behind Cara and started expertly unlacing her leathers. She relaxed into Kahlan, and Darken smiled gloatingly. This was going to work.

“But I—“ Cara panted, a little later. Only a few articles of clothing remained between the three of them. “Richard, I offered—and you said no,” she said, puzzled.

“The _fool_!” Darken exclaimed. Kahlan and Cara looked at him, skin flushed but eyes intelligent. “That I was,” he added hastily.

Someday, Darken wanted their eyes to light like that for him, not Richard—but for now, those considerations were fast flying out of his head.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, instead. “Both of you.”

After that, there were far fewer complete, coherent sentences for a long time.

Hours later, the three of them snuggled together, Kahlan on one side of Darken and Cara on the other, watching the sunset. It really was quite a beautiful sight, Darken thought drowsily.

“Richard,” Kahlan said, tracing a finger down Darken’s (Richard’s, technically) bare chest. “You seem more…experienced than I expected…I mean—“

“She wants to know about the other women,” Cara explained. Her hair was tickling Darken’s jaw. He wouldn’t move now for the world.

“No one could compare to either of you,” Darken said, truthfully.

Kahlan’s smile was very like sunlight, Darken decided. Cara’s determined impassivity made him proud.

Luckily, Richard’s Han was incredibly powerful—powerful enough that Darken was able to set an unobtrusive magical barrier, to prevent any interruptions. He and Kahlan and Cara stayed at the Falls of Aldermont for several lazy, sunlit weeks—until the morning Kahlan exclaimed,

“I’m pregnant!”

“How can you tell already?” Cara asked practically,

“A Confessor always knows,” she said.

Darken, watching them, decided it really was true, about pregnant women. Kahlan frankly glowed.

Unfortunately, this meant their idyll was at an end. As Kahlan said, “The Keeper is still out there—I don’t want my daughter to be born into a world run over by banelings.”

This gave Darken a definitive deadline, and the three of them rode out into the sunrise, filled with new determination.

It wasn’t long before they came across a village filled with sick people—their skin was mottled with ugly sores, and Darken flinched away from their touch, grasping Kahlan’s arm and putting her securely between himself and Cara.

“Can you cure them?” Kahlan asked.

Before Darken could try, a little doubtfully, a strange woman in white robes appeared. Powerful white Light streamed from her hands, and all the people were cured.

Darken breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Creator,” he said fervently. He hadn’t been looking forward to trying to cure those half-dead looking peasants.

“You’re welcome,” smiled the woman in white—and Darken got an idea.

“So,” he said casually, when he’d managed to extract ‘The Creator’ from all the grateful peasants, Cara’s raised eyebrows and Kahlan’s hopeful smile, “You’re the Creator, huh? Maybe you can help me.”

“I don’t remember hearing a lot of prayers from you,” she commented reprovingly.

“What do I have to do to find the Stone of Tears and save the world?” Darken asked, without further preamble. “Give me detailed instructions, I want to get this done so Cara and Kahlan will agree to go back to the Falls of Aldermont—I mean, so the world will be saved, Creator bless the kittens, for Creatormas, and small annoying children, and sheep.”

“You believe I am the Creator and you make such demands of me?” she asked, putting a hand over her heart. Her expression of outraged virtue was nothing to Kahlan’s, however, and Darken was unimpressed.

“If you’re not the Creator,” Darken said dryly, “then I want the name of your propaganda artist.”

“These quests are important, not only to save the world, but also to learn and grow as a hero—well,” she paused, eyeing Darken. “ _You_ are no hero—this is entirely inappropriate. I will reveal to the Mother Confessor your perfidy.”

At any rate, she had enough Han to see he wasn’t Richard. Darken had no doubt she would have little compunction in revealing his secret to Kahlan and Cara, but he wasn’t ready for them to know—and, if he wasn’t careful, they’d all find out soon enough. A reunion in the Underworld didn’t appeal to him.

“If you don’t tell me what I need to know to save the world and protect Kahlan and Cara,” he said slowly. “Then I…will tear a rift in the Veil right here, and you and the Keeper can share a permanent life sentence together.”

“You can’t do that!” she gasped, “You’re not the Keeper’s most valued servant anymore! You don’t have that power! Do you?”

Darken shrugged. “I guess He forgot to take that particular ability away from me.”

She watched him warily, as though he were a garden snake that had suddenly started breathing fire. “I—you— _fine_.”

Darken wrote down her instructions very, very carefully, in a journeybook, with regular ink.

He’d never actually tried writing in a journeybook—or at all—without blood. He was pleasantly surprised to find that ink worked, if possible, even better.

“Oh,” he said, when she’d finished, “Don’t tell Kahlan.” After a painful inner struggle, he added, “Please.”

“There’s hope for you yet, Darken Rahl,” she said, touching his arm. Then she shimmered, and disappeared.

“Do you think she was really the Creator?” Kahlan asked wistfully.

“Oh yes,” Darken said, fervently. His faith had surely been reaffirmed.

Cara rolled her eyes.

It didn’t take the three of them long before they found the scroll, and then the Stone—the people in the Creator’s Valley seemed strangely surprised to see them. “Three of you?” they asked. “But that’s not right—the world can only be repopulated by one man and one woman!”

Darken snorted. “’One man and one woman’? Is the concept of alternative lifestyles—not to mention the simple mathematics of mass repopulation—entirely lost on you?”

They stared at him, bewildered.

Luckily, Richard’s unstoppable Han was more than a match for even the Creator’s trap of a Valley.

Meanwhile, some D’Haran soldiers attacked them, in a haphazard, confused fashion. Darken put them in a Wizard’s Web to protect them from Kahlan and Cara, disarmed them, and then set them free.

“Richard!” Kahlan protested.

“I am the Lord Rahl,” Darken said, holding up a hand. As if by instinct, his fingers drifted to his mouth, tracing his lips.

The D’Harans saw, and looked relieved. Obviously, the sudden lack of leadership had completely unbalanced them. They recited the loyalty oath, all properly subservient. Darken smiled.

Cara pulled him aside, and Kahlan followed, until they were out of earshot of the D’Harans. “You’re not Richard, are you?” Cara asked, eyes narrowed.

“What?” Kahlan gasped.

“Richard would never claim the title of Lord Rahl without apprising us first,” Cara said. “I’ve been wondering about this for awhile—just now I was sure.”

“Is it a spell?” Kahlan asked, worried.

“You’re right,” Darken said. “I’m not Richard. I’m a changed man. I may not like it, but it’s my duty to lead the people. Besides, I have a family on the way now,” he touched Kahlan’s stomach gently, “and I think we’ll all be safer with an army at our backs. Trust me,” he said to Kahlan. Then he looked at Cara, and traced the line of her jaw with one finger. “First Mistress.”

Cara gasped, as the strength of that bond, between Lord Rahl and his First Mistress, hit her. She drew herself up proudly. “I will serve you well—Richard.”

Kahlan buried her face against Darken’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent. Then she stepped back a pace, nodded, and said, “Then let’s get this over with.”

The D’Harans traveled with them, which was convenient when the Sisters of the Dark attacked. One managed to get close enough to Cara to pin her to the ground, and Kahlan went into the Con Dar, which expedited their defeat of the Sisters of the Dark even more significantly.

Then it was just a matter of climbing up to the Pillars of Creation and depositing the Stone between them—Light shone down around Darken, Kahlan and Cara, and the Keeper screamed, “NOOOO!!!!”

It was quite enjoyable, all things considered.

And that healing Light seemed to flow through Darken, showing him all at once the error of his ways—he should’ve tried being a hero from the beginning. Sure, the villains had more fun, but, at the end of the day, the heroes got the credit—and the women.

Darken went on to reclaim the throne of D’Hara, Kahlan and Cara at his side, and ruled with a gentler fist this time. He’d learned his lesson. His daughter with Kahlan, Victoria (named for his victory in sealing the tear in the Veil), was soon getting a little brother or sister—Cara was pregnant.

Darken even managed to kill less innocent bystanders—he was sending as few souls to the Keeper as possible. The Lord of the Underworld was a truly terrible boss.

His new, more morally upright approach to life didn’t extend so far as rescuing kittens in trees, however. (Ever since Jennsen’s kitten hadn’t been enough to keep her by his side, he’d developed a violent, psychosomatic allergy to cat hair.)

He, Kahlan, Cara, Victoria, and Jennsen were together in the People’s Palace, where they belonged.

And they all lived happily ever after.

(Except for Richard, who was tortured for eternity for letting the Keeper’s most valued servant escape, and for all that annoying whining he did about Kahlan.)

(Except for Zedd, who valiantly tried to rule Aydindril and was killed by Prince Fyren’s loyal guards. Dennee came back to Aydindril eventually, and made a very effective viceroy of the place, under Darken’s umbrella ‘United D’Hara’ leadership. She never forgave Kahlan for “shacking up with the Mord’Sith who made me drown my baby,” though.)

(And finally, except for all of Westland. It turned out the Boundary was only impassable for someone without all Richard’s record-breaking Han, and Darken easily conquered them this time. They even put up a statue. It wasn’t a very good likeness—of either Richard or Darken. But you can’t have everything.)


End file.
